


5 Times Rorschach Secretly Jerked Off in the Brownstone

by Delphi



Category: Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: 5 Things, Closeted Character, Dark Comedy, Dubious Consent, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early on in their partnership, Dan makes an offer and Walter takes him up on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Rorschach Secretly Jerked Off in the Brownstone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fifth iteration of Watchmen Kink Meme.

1.

Sometimes he sleeps in Nite Owl's lair. He sees no reason to mention this to his partner. He knows how to get in, and he leaves before Daniel is even awake. "Come by anytime you like," Daniel said, the first time he brought Walter here, and Daniel is a man of his word.

Tonight, he is lying in the cool, dark shadows of the basement, and he is dreaming. In his dream, he is in a warm cave that smells rank and musty-sweet, like the animal pens at the zoo. He has killed a monster. He tore it apart with his bare hands, and his right arm is buried deep in its steaming carcass. Daniel is with him, smiling. Walter is staring at Daniel's mouth as his hand twists in the warm, wet innards of the beast.

He is excited, although he doesn't know why.

His hand twists.

His hand twists.

His hand twists.

He makes a faint, choked sound in his sleep as he comes in his pants.

 

2.

Daniel does not wake the first time Walter ventures upstairs, too restless to sleep and wary of strange dreams. It is a week since he woke up in the lair reeking of his own secretions, and he does not intend for it to happen again. This time, when the tension in his stomach refuses to ease, he steals into the dark house and finds the bathroom.

Masturbation is a distasteful necessity, and so the bathroom is the place for it. He closes the door behind him and turns on the light. There is still no sound of stirring from the bedroom. Daniel is too trusting.

Here he hesitates. Yes, Daniel is too trusting, and his bathroom is too clean. He stares at himself in the mirror for several moments and then begins to inspect every item in the room one by one. Daniel's effeminate soap, the smell of which he knows well. Daniel's shaving cream. Daniel's towel, soft and thick. There is a cache of bandages, and he knows the smell of those too, and likes them even better.

The tension in him strains as he peels his mask up over his nose and unscrews a cap to breathe in the tang of antiseptic cream. He runs his thumb over the dull edge of Daniel's safety razor and touches his tongue to Daniel's toothbrush, which hasn't been rinsed properly and still tastes like mint.

He's already hard when he unbuttons his pants and closes his eyes. He makes it quick and rough, his mind carefully and perfectly blank.

 

3.

He does not approve of jazz music. It is counter-cultural and glorifies drinking, drug use, and adultery. He does not see the appeal it holds for someone as morally upright as his partner, but there are advantages to the nights when Daniel listens to the radio in his room.

Walter is lying on the couch in the living room, listening to the faint creak that occurs whenever Daniel rolls over in his bed. Insomnia. They should be doing something productive—patrolling—but Daniel's leg is still mending, and Walter has work in just a few hours.

The words are muffled through the walls, but the low murmur of trumpets and a woman's voice make him uneasy. He listens instead to the sound of the mattress. Daniel turning over and over again. When the urge bites at him, he only pauses a moment before digging a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and reaching for his fly. He should take himself to the bathroom, but Daniel might hear him and be disturbed. It would be rude to trouble him by announcing his presence. Daniel needs his sleep.

 

4.

The pizza is one-third Walter's, owing to how much he paid for it, and so he feels there is no trespass in riffling through Daniel's refrigerator for his share before sitting down at the table in the dark kitchen. It was a bad night. Useless patrol. Stalled investigation. Walter is too tired to sleep, and so he chews the cold pizza mechanically and listens to Daniel's breathing from down the hall.

In. Out.

He likes the sound of it, and he sits there, unmasked, as the clock ticks through the long minutes.

In. Out.

When he unbuttons his pants, his hands are unusually slow. He takes off his gloves, but that only makes it worse. His heart is beginning to beat loudly in a way that he dimly associates with the long-forgotten sensation of fear. It's ridiculous. He is thinking of Daniel, and he has no reason to be afraid of Daniel.

In. Out.

He has never in his life done this without leaving himself sore. But tonight, for reasons he does not question, he finds his hand moving tentatively in time with Daniel's breathing. Face impassive, eyes unblinking, he sits slouched in Daniel's kitchen chair, stroking himself slowly and softly, holding his own breath so that he does not lose track of Daniel's.

 

5.

It is a hot night in August the first time he goes into Daniel's bedroom. The brownstone is humid, but not nearly as much so as his own apartment. Daniel should know better than to sleep with his window open.

His bare hand touches the cool doorknob and very slowly turns it. Inside, Daniel's breathing turns briefly shallow but eventually deepens once more. Walter is strung tight. It is too hot for outdoor crime, and the sound of his neighbors complaining and fighting has wound him up. Seeing his partner makes it better.

Daniel is indecently naked, lying on his stomach under only a thin sheet. His face is to the window, his lips slightly parted.

Walter rubs himself through his pants, feeling nearly sick to his stomach. His fingers scrabble at his buttons and underwear. His own flesh nearly burns him at the first touch. His hand works feverishly as he stares at Daniel's naked skin—at the tender places at his neck and thigh where a single cut could kill him, at the mottled bruise on his back, at the small scar over his ribs—and the sound of the act seems unbearably loud, but Daniel doesn't stir, not even when Walter lets out a quiet, unwilling grunt and comes.

His breath is ragged as he examines the glinting drops on his fingers. He looks at Daniel. Then, a nearly unknown sense of calm descends upon him. He remembers the boys he knew when he was a child. Blood brothers they called it. A mother's stolen sewing needle and two fingers pressed together. Never him, though, of course. Never him.

Walter finds himself reaching out. He feels the soft puff of Daniel's breath against his skin. Then oh-so-carefully he smears the mess on his fingers across Daniel's lips.

"Mf," Daniel murmurs to himself, his brow faintly creasing as his tongue darts out. He does not wake.

Walter's hands are much steadier as he puts himself to rights. He smiles in the dark, relieved at the realization that his urges were comradely after all. They are partners, he and Daniel. They are partners, and he is welcome here, and all is well.


End file.
